In Joy, to lose one’s life is to gain it, and Joy never loses an opportunity to be lost in the other.

Your suffering only matters if it connects you to the suffering of others, if it heals them too.

Without God, reality is madness. Reason will tell you so. You either madly trust in God, or you trust in a world gone mad without him.

When their minds mingle with His magnanimity, something of eternity rubs off on their imaginations.

In every human act of charity, something larger, greater, divine has come down to visit the act.

They want explanation, not faith; God gives them faith as the explanation.

The more we train a man to labor, deliberate, dictate and demand over the inconsequential, the less capable his mind becomes of holding that of consequence.

Joy is that paradox where a man so trusts, is so enraptured, as to be caught up and lost in the other, while at the same time, being utterly known by the other, thus utterly himself.

They think that if they had more belief they would pray more, so keep them lacking. Never let them realize that the opposite is true: If they prayed more, they would have more belief.

Somehow they fail to see that for someone aggravated by depression, self-help will be useless, indeed, it is precisely the self that needs to be forgotten.

Properly understood, Imagination and Prayer are directly proportional —the more they pray beyond their bounds, they expand their vision beyond their resources, their experiences, their expectations.

I had wanted to say that my song was far too painful to sing.

Having Willie Stargell on your ball club is like having a diamond ring on your finger.

Anything that is close to your heart is worthy of your time and commitment.

When we do what God wants us to do, we are blessed, we are spiritually healthy.

Surely the church is a place where one day's truce ought to be allowed to the dissensions and animosities of mankind.

The history of this country was made largely by people who wanted to be left alone. Those who could not thrive when left to themselves never felt at ease in America.

Still on it creeps, Each little moment at another's heels, Till hours, days, years, and ages are made up Of such small parts as these, and men look back Worn and bewilder'd, wondering how it is.

My dog, Puffy. The dog is the perfect portrait subject. He doesn't pose. He isn't aware of the camera.

‎This I know... That often when I sang, and drummed, and danced, I found my eternity.

I felt little awkward about taking one boyfriend to see a film starring another boyfriend.